


Honey and Vinegar

by JayTRobot



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Commission Mission, Five is a murder machine, He has this under control, Honeypot, M/M, No Explicit Sexual Content, Nothing terrible happens to Five, Pedophilia, The Handler is horny for Five, descriptions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26392681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayTRobot/pseuds/JayTRobot
Summary: The Handler sends Five on a mission only he can complete - to seduce a known pedophile for information. Then kill him.Five doesn't appreciate playing the honeypot.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 135





	Honey and Vinegar

**Author's Note:**

> This was written based on a prompt I saw on Twitter. I hope the OP likes it! 
> 
> Please write off any complaints with the story set-up as the Handler being sadistic and horny for Five. And Five's compliance as feeling stuck.

Five looked at the kill order with disdain. It was nothing remarkable. Male, fifty-two, brown hair, hazel eyes, average height, average weight. He worked with a group that helped disadvantaged youths. Even the picture paperclipped to the file was bland.

“Why is this my problem?” Five asked, looking up to meet the eyes of the Handler.

She smiled at the annoyed look on his face and it wasn’t a kind smile. “Because, you little cutie, you’re _specially suited_ for this case.”

Five’s eyebrows came together, confused. “What about this nitwit could possibly warrant sending in your best assassin?”

“Oh, no no no,” the Handler cooed. “You misunderstand. This isn’t _just_ wetworks. You get to play a particular role for this case.” She smiled again and Five couldn’t help but imagine killing her.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Five asked, deadpan, barely even a question.

The Handler’s smile ratcheted up another few notches, her eyes twinkling with sadistic glee. She stood, all grace and proper carriage, and circled her desk to tap the file. “This man,” she said, leaning forward to glance at the papers. “Roger Williams, is a pedophile. On February 17th, 1985, his - ah - _extracurricular activities_ will result in the death of one Marco Vincente, which must be prevented to preserve the timeline.”

Five knew immediately what the Handler was getting at and didn’t like it. Not one bit. “Literally any Commission assassin can put a bullet in this loser. Send Hazel and Cha-Cha.”

“No,” the Handler said cheerfully. “He doesn’t simply need to be put down. He already _has_ Marco. So I’m sending you because who better to catch a predator than such a sweet little thing, hm?”

“You’re fucking joking,” Five snarled, glaring at her with all his significant might. He would kill her. One day. His palms itched at the thought. How satisfying it would be to wring the life from her, watch the light go out in her eyes.

He’d loved her, once. Or thought he did. Being alone for that long made any minor scrap of attention feel like love.

Knowing that it hadn’t really been love didn’t prevent the shiver that chased down his spine or the sickening lurch in his gut as the Handler reached down to run her nails over his knee. Leaning in close, she murmured in his ear, “Stop fantasizing about killing me and get to work, my cute little honeypot.”

***

Five looked at himself critically in the mirror. His hair was just mussed enough to look like a child who had been cleaned up for school and had played just enough to untidy it. Pulling a smile onto his face, he consciously softened it until it looked less...insane. He couldn’t do anything about his eyes but hopefully this creep wouldn’t be looking into them too deeply before he’d gotten the information he needed and killed the bastard. There wasn’t a thing in the world that could disguise how hard his eyes had gotten over the years.

He lowered his lashes and peered at himself with affected bashfulness. It would do.

At least he wouldn’t have to change clothes.

As he straightened his tie, Five muttered to himself, “A quick death is too good for her.”

***

Roger Williams was easy enough to track down. He stood out in the small crowd at the city square purely because of his absolute blandness. As Five stood watching, a span of no more than ten minutes, three people ran directly into Roger, looking surprised at his existence.

Five nodded. The man had the makings of a serial killer and if he was allowed to escalate from the horrors he was already committing…

He shook his head. It wouldn’t happen.

Sighing deeply at what he was about to do, Five reached down to fix one of his socks, plunged a hand into his pocket to pull out a sucker, and made a beeline for his target.

***

Five bumped into Roger like the others had, looking wide-eyed and lost. “Oh golly,” he said, already fighting to maintain his Leave It To Beaver innocent act. It felt so _unnatural_. “I’m sorry, mister.”

Roger looked down at him and something flashed in his eyes, the briefest glimpse of the beast within. Five recognized it immediately, that flash of barely contained violence. Even though Roger’s beast was timid and weak and preyed on the innocent, that sadistic streak wasn’t so different from the one the Commission tried to train into their agents. It spoke of a person who didn’t see other people as people, but as fodder.

“Hello there, young man,” Roger said. His voice was pleasant, almost melodic. Soothing. “Are you lost?”

Five very deliberately brought the sucker to his mouth for a long, slow lick as he looked around the city square. Then, popping it into his mouth, making his cheek bulge, he said, “I guess so? I don’t see my parents. They told me to meet them by the fountain but they weren’t by the fountain.” Speaking like an average child grated on Five’s nerves. It had annoyed him out of his siblings when he was younger and it annoyed him worse coming out of his own mouth.

He vastly preferred jobs with the simple, straightforward objective of death.

Roger sank down to one knee, bringing himself closer to Five’s height. It took every ounce of Five’s considerable self-control not to headbutt him in the nose, breaking it, then slit his throat, then watch as he drowned in his own blood for _daring_ to condescend to him.

But instead, Five kept the owlish look on his face and fussed the sucker around in his mouth.

“Don’t worry, little buddy,” Roger said, smiling, and it was a non-threatening smile. “We’ll find your parents, okay?”

Five hesitated for a moment, appearing to consider both Roger and the crowd, then nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he said, pulling the sucker out of his mouth, one he knew had reddened his lips, and smiled. “You sure are nice.”

Roger stood and ruffled Five’s hair. Five caught himself midway to shoving the sucker stick into his jugular and turned it into a point. “The last time I saw my parents, they were over there.”

Roger looked a little confused for a moment then shrugged off the weird gesture. “Alright, pal, we’ll look over there first. But if we can’t find them, we might have to call the police, okay?”

Five pulled a look of mild fear onto his face and shook his head. “Please don’t call the police, mister. My dad will take the belt to me if I cause that much trouble.”

The smile on Roger’s face sharpened, that ghost of violence flitting in his eyes. “Alright, we’ll just look. My name is Roger, by the way. What’s yours?”

“Toby,” Five said. Suddenly, he realized he’d been making far too much eye contact so he looked down and scuffed one of his loafers against the pavement. “It’s a dumb name.”

Roger ruffled his hair again and Five was very thankful that his face was downward; it hid the murderous rage that he knew showed on his features for a split second before he got it under control. “I don’t think it’s a dumb name at all, little buddy. Now come along, let’s find your folks.” He reached out his hand, clearly expecting Five to take it.

_I am going to enjoy killing you._ Five slid his hand into Roger’s, faintly appalled at how soft the man’s skin was. He hoped this creep wouldn’t notice the very specific calluses on his fingers.

Roger ran his thumb across the pad of Five’s trigger finger and asked, “Do you play violin?”

Five wiggled his fingers in the man’s grasp and shook his head. “My dad keeps trying to teach me how but I’m no good at it. My sister is, though! She’s way better at music than I am.”

_Commission Standard Training: The easiest way to keep track of your story is to tell as much truth as possible._

Roger squeezed Five’s hand and smiled. “Well, I think that’s just a-okay, buddy. Everyone is good at something!”

_And I’m good at murder._ Five smiled and swung his arm, taking Roger’s with it. He kicked a rock and said, “The stuff I’m good at isn’t the kind of stuff my dad wishes I was good at.”

The spasm that caused Roger’s hand to tighten, just the slightest, wasn’t lost on Five. “Do you see your parents, Toby?” Roger asked, glancing around. He was getting impatient.

“Nope.” Five sighed and turned his face up to give Roger the most innocent, helpless expression he could muster. “I...I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Tell you what,” Roger said, still smiling the gentle smile that undoubtedly had put untold numbers of actual children at ease. I grated on Five’s nerves. “I’ll give you a ride home, okay?”

Five let his eyes skate off to the side and shifted his weight back and forth, rocking slightly. It’s something that Luther used to do when he was young. “I dunno, I’m not supposed to go anywhere with a stranger…” he said quietly.

“We’re not strangers though, are we?” Roger gave Five’s hand a little tug, not insistent but encouraging. “Let's get you home, okay?”

Five glanced around the city square, letting his eyes land on person after person, giving every impression of looking for his parents. After a few moments, he nodded. “Okay.”

***

Roger - rather predictably, in Five’s opinion - wasted no time explaining that he had to run home real quick to feed his cat. That he’d been on his way home from work when ‘Toby’ had bumped into him. It wouldn’t take but a few minutes.

“As long as it’s quick,” Five said, letting more faux nervousness leak into his voice. “My parents are probably worried.”

“I’m sure they are, little buddy,” Roger said as he pulled his car into the driveway of an extremely unremarkable house. “Do you want to come in with me? It won’t take long but you can have some lemonade while I feed the cat.”

“Maybe I should wait in the car…”

Roger smiled that gentle smile again and said, “Okay, buddy, you can wait out here if you really want to. I guess I’ll have to eat all those cookies myself.”

Internally rolling his eyes at how textbook this loser was, Five perked up and asked, “Cookies?”

“Mhmm! I’ve got chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin.” Roger slid out of the car and leaned down to grin at Five. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah!” Five smiled and laughed, trying to mimic the way he’d heard other children, _normal_ children sound. Apparently it worked because Roger laughed along with him and waved him out of the car.

***

The faint smell of rohypnol in the lemonade - only detectable because of his Commission training - burned at Five’s nose and made his stomach feel hot with bile. Angry. He was getting _angry_.

That wasn’t good. Emotions made one sloppy. 

_Commission Standard Training: Don’t make it personal._

It was difficult not to, though. Yes, Five himself wasn’t an innocent, vulnerable child. He was an old man, older than this disgusting creep, with resources at hand.

The other children that Roger preyed on weren’t. Marco Vincente, wherever he was, wasn’t.

Five took a sip of the lemonade and made a happy little sound, keeping the liquid in his cheek. Roger smiled.

“I’m going to go feed the cat. You enjoy your lemonade.”

As soon as Roger was out of sight, Five spat out the liquid in his mouth and tipped a small vial into the glass. Five had been subjected to rohypnol before (all in the name of Commission training); he knew that he was one of the rare cases that didn’t experience sleepiness or loss of consciousness. He became aggressive and paranoid, which he really couldn’t afford on top of his standard aggressiveness and paranoia. It was better to neutralize the drug and continue playing pretend.

He downed half of the glass in one gulp and sat it on the low coffee table before slumping back against the couch pillows.

Roger came back into the living room quietly. He scooped up the glass and set it aside, then crouched down next to Five.

“Poor little guy, you must be tuckered out after such a long day, hm?” Roger said softly.

Five let his eyes flutter open, keeping them deliberately unfocused. “Yeah, I’m…” He faked a yawn. “I’m really sleepy, Roger.”

“That’s okay, buddy.” Roger rested his hand on Five’s exposed knee, fingers sliding underneath the hem of his shorts. “Just relax.”

Five nodded slowly.

“Such a cute boy,” Roger said. His mask was slipping, now that he thought his victim was unable to respond. “I’m going to enjoy you.”

“Hmm?” Five hummed, head lolling.

Roger reached up his other hand, pushing his fingers into Five’s mouth. “You like to suck, don’t you?”

_Keep your cool, Five. Do not bite his fingers off. Even if he really, really deserves it._ Five forced his breath to stay even and pushed his tongue between Roger’s fingers before giving them a weak suck.

“I knew it, just by looking at you.” Roger’s hand moved from Five’s knee to the front of his own pants. “This won’t even be your first time sucking cock, will it?”

Five moaned softly and let his knees fall open.

“That’s it,” Roger murmured. “And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. Better care than your parents did, anyway.” He laughed softly at that and it didn’t sound like his earlier laugh. It was cruel. Cold.

Five couldn’t speak with Roger’s fingers in his mouth so he simply moaned again, hoping it would keep this sack of shit talking. 

“I even have another little boy for you to play with, when you wake up.” The sound of Roger’s zipper opening was like nails on a chalkboard, making Five fight down a flinch. “I think I’d like that. Watching you two play together.”

Five wasn’t scared. He was perfectly in control of his faculties and could jump at any time. He just needed to find Marco. Annoyed, however? He was definitely annoyed.

He sincerely hoped that Roger would let that one bit of information slip before he had to suck off some pedophile just to keep up his ruse. While Roger pulled his cock out of his slacks, Five ran the odds in his head on whether he could simply torture the information out of him before Marco died. They weren’t great.

So Five made a small, inquisitive sound and gave Roger’s fingers another suck, purposely letting saliva drip down his chin.

“He’s waiting out back,” Roger said. He shifted, bringing one knee onto the couch and his cock near Five’s face. “In the cellar. You’re about the same age and--”

Roger’s voice cut off with a gurgle as Five blinked behind him, smashed the lemonade glass, and shoved one of the larger shards into the man’s trachea. Blood poured out but not lethally. Five struck with precision, cutting off Roger’s voice but not hitting an artery.

Then Roger was on the floor, with Five’s loafer at his throat.

“That’s better,” Five said, grinning down at his target, a splash of blood across his face. “I couldn’t listen to your bullshit any more.” He twirled the shard of now-crimson glass in his fingers. “You really are disgusting. Pathetic. And while I try _so_ hard not to enjoy this part, I’m going to like killing you.”

A series of gasping, desperate sounds came from the man on the floor.

Apologizing.

He was trying to _apologize_.

“You’re sorry?” Five asked, deadly calm. Then, louder, angry, “You’re _sorry_?” He ground the sole of his shoe into the wound he’d made. “You wanted to rape me, you sick fuck!”

More terrified, wheezing sounds.

A grin, wide and maniacal, curved Five’s mouth as he struck. The shard of glass plunged through Roger’s eye easily, only hesitated slightly as it broke through the sphenoid bone, then slid like a hot knife through butter into the brain tissue behind it.

Five looked down at his work, satisfied that his assignment was nearly complete but still feeling…

...his skin crawled.

***

“Report.” 

The Handler sat at her desk, posture perfect.

Five tossed the file into her desk. “Done.”

“Done?” The Handler pouted. “I was hoping for more than that.”

Five’s jaw clenched. “I successfully seduced the target…” The Handler grinned and it made Five’s stomach turn. “...and extracted the necessary information. Roger Williams is dead and Marco Vincente has been returned to his parents, who have been informed that Marco had been...assaulted.”

The Handler nodded, pout still firmly in place. “No details?”

Five stood and slammed his hands on her desk. “What do you want from me, huh?”

The Handler’s moue shifted into a smile. “I was hoping to hear about what a sweet little boy you had to pretend to be in order to trick anyone into believing that you’re anything but a monster.” Still smirking, she leaned back in her chair and examined her nails. “I suppose I can watch it on the Infinite Switchboard at my leisure~”

Five made a sound of pure disgust and blinked out of her office, back to his small, lonely room.

“Dolores, do I have a story for you,” he said, picking up a half-empty bottle of gin and sliding into bed next to his wife.


End file.
